I allude, you allude, we allude

the mother of Pelops
to her husband

I stand close to you

my body ripe
and calling, scented
as apricot and lime
with musk

your throat muscles
stand up in ridges

I am the fresh water
you cannot reach
the cold scarlet fruit
you crave

I stand apart from you

may you live
forever

<><><>

An old piece dusted off.  I was workshopping regularly (and very deferentially) at the time I first wrote it, and remember getting a blistering workshop response. As I recall, my critic blasted me for presenting a piece relying on ‘obscure’ mythological allusions and declared in so many words that she didn’t give two hoots whose husband or wife did what to whom, or when, she wanted all the poetic evidence I was purportedly presenting to be, in fact, presented.

I think she was having a bad day, but wish I had thought at the time to link to my evidence. I mean, really.

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